


Football ... and others.

by RedStarFiction



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 11:38:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11058165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedStarFiction/pseuds/RedStarFiction
Summary: A wee fic I have just written on the train from Manchester to London whilst really hoping that the old man in the seat next to mine isn’t reading over my shoulder! haha! Enjoy some J+C fluff everyone, Happy Wednesday! :) xx





	Football ... and others.

“Why do I never get picked first?”  
Claire glanced up at her husband and suppressed a smile by sheer force of will  
“I’m sorry?”  
“I said, why do I never get picked first? It doesna matter the team, I ne’er get picked first.”  
“Ah …”  
Claire’s shoulder’s began quivering beneath the quilt and she sensed rather than saw the disdainful look her husband was giving her.  
“What’s so funny Sassenach? Ye may as well spit it out before ye jiggle yeself out o’ the bed entirely.”  
"You sound like a little boy in a Christmas special about to ask Santa to make his wish come true.”  
“I thought Santa only brought gifts?”  
“In America there seems to be a developing trend for him to grant wishes too.”  
Claire shrugged and curled into Jamie’s side, tracing a finger over the swell of the biceps in his right arm.  
“Aye well, I dinna understand it myself but I’ll take your word for it.”  
Claire propped her chin on his chest and grinned at him in the dark  
“You’re really quite put out about this ‘picking’ business aren’t you?”  
“I wouldna say I’m put out as such … I’m no a wee lad. But I would say I’m fairly handy wi’ dribbling the ball and none sae bad in goal either.”  
Hearing Jamie rattle off the football terms that Jem had taught him was still a novelty to Claire and caught her slightly by surprise. Which, she supposed, gave her the merest glimpse into how Jamie himself must feel each time someone mentioned trains or radios or germs.  
“Oh, you’ve mastered dribbling now have you?”  
Claire teased  
“Mmmmph. Twas a mistake anyone could make, Sassenach.”  
Jamie grunted but she could hear the smile in his voice. The tale of Jem advising his grandfather to dribble the ball to gain more control, assuring him that it was a perfectly valid move when Jamie had seemed sceptical, only to have his grandfather crane his neck over and cautiously spit on it, was still their grandson’s favourite story and one that he repeated at least once a week.  
“True.”  
Claire agreed and then sighed.  
“Alright, well I can tell you why you don’t get picked first if you like?”  
Jamie’s shoulder jerked beneath her head  
“Ye ken why?”  
“I do, but you won’t like it.”  
Claire warned, propping herself up on her elbows to avoid further jostling. Jamie raised his eyebrows and nudged her gently with his elbow in encouragement.  
“It’s because, according to several other players, you’re a ‘ball hog.’”  
“A what?”  
Jamie frowned but Claire wasn’t finished  
“And also, according to this player, you’re bossy.”  
“According to …Ye think I’m bossy? And what is a ball-hog?”  
Jamie spluttered, sitting up indignantly and swatting Claire’s hand away as she reached out to rub his back consolingly  
“You ARE bossy and a ball-hog is someone who, quite simply, hogs the ball.”  
“Keep it to myself ye mean?”  
“Exactly.”  
“I dinna do that!”  
“Well you don’t pass it around much.”  
Claire was biting the inside of her lip and willing herself to stillness with each huff from the darkness beside her, but she could feel the muscles in her stomach clenching and knew she would laugh despite her best efforts if Jamie didn’t stop flouncing soon.  
She heard him rustling in his bedside drawer and then the scrape of one of Brianna’s matches, which he saved prudently for only the most dire need of light, and the soft glow of fire illuminated the room, swiftly followed by the more steady glow of candlelight.  
Jamie settled himself on the bed and turned to face her, mouth set in a grimly determined line.  
“Jamie, don’t worry about it! It’s just a game!”  
“But …”  
“I never get picked first either! Even you don’t pick me first!”  
Claire laughed and Jamie grimaced guiltily  
“In all other aspects of our life, I would pick ye over any other, but ye have to admit, Sassench, ye are no’ very good at football.”  
He spread his hands before him, palm up, a gesture of helpless and hopeless resignation and Claire snorted wryly.  
“I had noticed that my chief deployment seems to be the goal.”  
“Aye, weel ye are verra good with your hands, ken?”  
Jamie grinned, finally letting go of his indignation.  
“Thank you.”  
Claire edged closer to him and this time he reached out and tugged her gently forward across the bed, meeting her lips softly with his own.  
“Sorry for the wee stramash.”  
He murmured finally.  
“It’s alright. You’re competitive and rather possessive by nature, why should your relationship with a ball be any different?”  
She smiled and Jamie ducked his head bashfully.  
“I think perhaps I just have a penchant for firm, round wee things.”  
Claire squeaked as his hands settled firmly on the part of her anatomy he clearly considered to fit that description  
“Firm? Ha! Maybe twenty years ago!”  
“Och dinna be daft, I have my hands on it at least as often as you do and I ken a firm wee bum when I feel one.”  
“Do you now? I sincerely hope you don’t have too many recent examples to compare it with!”  
“No but I’ve a fine memory and I can tell ye truthfully that your arse has, if anything, only improved over the years, Sassenach.”  
“Really?”  
Claire squinted over her shoulder and frowned  
“Aye, when ye were a younger lass ye had a fine broad backside but now it’s a wee bit fuller and unlike ye temper, it has softened slightly with age.”  
Jamie’s voice was deeper but considered, like a sommelier trying to decipher the secrets of a particular vintage rather than husky with lust.  
“I thought you said it was firm.”  
“Aye it is but …”  
Kneading his fingers lightly into the curve of her flesh, his thumb stroking small circles across her skin that made her breath catch in her throat, Jamie considered carefully before speaking.  
“there is a softness there now that wasna there before. Or perhaps it was and I have only just learned how to seek it, for if marriage has taught me one thing Sassenach, it is that it takes a lifetime to truly learn to appreciate a woman’s magnificence.”  
Jamie slowly rolled Claire onto her back and covered her with his body.  
“Had someone asked me when I had been wed to ye for three years, I would ha’ told them that I knew every inch of your body with more certainty than I knew my own and I wouldna ha’ been wrong, but there was so much more to learn and savour.”  
Claire gasped has his teeth found her nipple and gently tugged it, his tongue flicking against the hardened tip before doing the same with her other breast.  
“I ken that ye were brave but I didna ken how brave, just like I knew ye had a fine arse but I didna ken just how fine it was.”  
His fingers trailed her thigh and the sweet damp hair at her centre before slipping between her legs  
“Christ, ye’re warm Sassenach.”  
Claire didn’t answer, couldn’t. She arched her back and whimpered something akin to an invitation but Jamie was, as she had pointed out, bossy and by no means ready to relinquish possession.  
His free hand moved across her hair, fanned across the pillow and traced the arch of her brow.  
“I knew ye were beautiful, but I had no idea just how beautiful ye would become and I knew I loved ye, but I didna ken how deep that love could be. Look at me, Claire.”  
Claire forced her eyes open and saw in his eyes all that she was to him and she could only hope he saw the same reflection of himself in hers.  
“I do love ye, mo duinne.”  
“Jamie, please…”  
“Ye’ll have to release me.”  
He smiled and as Claire released her grip on his fingers, he rocked his hips and they sighed together.  
“I love you too, Jamie. I really love you.”  
“Wait for me Claire, I’m no’ far behind ye, let me go with ye.”  
“I can’t …”  
“Aye ye can, mo chridhe, ye can for ye must.”  
His hands on her arms were shaking and the thrust of his hips was gaining momentum, not wild but patient with the promise of such strength contained, reigned and held back, if only just. He would command her but only she had true control tonight and he knew it.  
“Slow down.”  
She could feel her breath break against his jawbone in rush of ho air and gripped his earlobe tightly between her front teeth at the same moment as she dragged her nails from his buttocks to the nape of his neck.  
“Ah Dhia! Claire…”  
Claire pressed her hips upwards, drawing him deeper and locked her legs around his back, drawing her body from the bed, letting his hands slip beneath them, his finger pressing lightly on the damp, taught flesh of their joining.  
“Come with me Jamie…”  
Claire whispered and felt his huge frame shudder in surrender against her a split second before the waves of her own pleasure crashed around her and obliterated all other thought from her mind.  
*  
Sometime later, wrapped in each other, the blankets forgotten at the foot of the bed, Jamie grunted into wakefulness and lightly shook Claire’s shoulder.  
“I swear I’ll pick ye first next time Sassenach.”  
“What?”  
Claire blinked and tried to comprehend what he was talking about  
“I’ll pick ye first next time we play football.”  
“Oh. Thank you.”  
Claire kissed his cheek and rolled over. She was drifting back to sleep as Jamie’s voice floated across the remaining strand of her consciousness.  
“I’d be a fool not to, ye certainly ken your way around balls.”


End file.
